Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

Stop nagging me! I shouted.

Why? So I can watch you stomp all over your friends?

Without warning, the griffin exploded into sight, snapping and squawking at me. Its beak fastened on my hand. “Ow!” I grabbed it behind its head. It tried to squirm free, but I wrestled the horrible creature into my jacket and sat on it. Still panting, I said, “I mean it, Chen. I don’t want to hear anything more about Yún or Lian or anyone else. And no sneaking behind my back and telling her, I mean, them. Swear it.”

The whole shop went quiet, even the griffin. Chen stared at me with bright black eyes, all the mockery wiped clean away. A dangerous beast. One who knew all kinds of powerful magic.

You want me to swear? he said, still fixing me with that unblinking gaze. A companion oath?

My brain went blank with dread for a minute.

There is an oath, as awful and terrible as the old folk tales say, which a human can use to bind their spirit companion to their will. It’s not written down, of course. Spirit companions show up when a child reaches four years old. Chen was two years late, but I still wouldn’t have understood something like that from a book. But he spoke the words directly to me, heart to heart, and I knew that we were bonded. And I knew that such an oath existed.

Yes, I croaked. Swear you won’t tell Yún where I’m going, or why.

Chen slowly dipped his massive head. I swear.

He looked so grim, I almost wished I could take back the oath. Almost.

I stood up, still holding the griffin. I think I’ll go to the markets now. Buy supplies for the trip. We can finish here this afternoon.

No answer except a gradual fade into invisibility.

A tremor passed through me. We’d never quarreled like this before.

I couldn’t stay here. If I did, I might throw up. Or cry. I didn’t want Chen to see either.

I blew out a breath. To the markets, then. That meant another list of what I needed and money to buy it with.

The griffin gave a feeble croak. I released him from my jacket.

“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered. “Hungry?”

But when I loosened my grip, the griffin launched itself into flight and vanished in a glittering puff of magic.

I DECIDED I didn’t need any lists. I knew what I needed. If I forgot anything, I could buy it along the way. Besides, the shop felt too empty, too quiet right now. So I locked all the doors and left a message for any customers to come back the next day. Then I hurried to the banking district.

Ma mi did all her banking with a piaohao run by two partners, Bin Chu and Hai-feng Lo. They did business from a hole-in-the-wall office, tucked between two bigger, fancier piaohao. I’d come here once or twice over the past year, ever since I won the king’s reward, but it was Ma mi who handled the investments.

It was dim inside, except for a bright lamp over the counter. The air reeked of tobacco and the electric tang of magic. No one was in sight, but I heard a tap-tapping, followed by the scratch of a metal pen on paper. Then someone coughed.

I leaned over the counter. Hai-feng Lo crouched behind it, bent over a thick book and an antique calculor. He was sucking on a hookah and writing down columns of numbers. Now and then, he tapped the calculor’s keys. The magic flux hummed in time to his tapping.

I cleared my throat.

Hai-feng Lo spat out the hookah pipe and smiled. A horrible sight, because his mouth stretched wide like a monkey’s, and his face crinkled in a thousand different directions.

“Kai Zou, hello. You have business with us today?”

“For my mother,” I said, using my best grown-up impersonation. “We would like to arrange for some automatic payments.”

The old man made a noise, halfway between a cough and a laugh. He held out an ink-stained hand and took the list of bills and taxes from me. His eyebrows danced up, then down, then tied themselves together over his nose as he glanced over the papers. “Already done,” he said.

“What do you mean, already done?”

“Three days ago. She came to us with a list—very thorough, very neat.” Here he frowned at my own messy writing. “Very neat. She made arrangements for us to handle all payments until she returned, or sent word otherwise. Do you wish to see her request?”

Without waiting for me to answer, he tapped out a few keys on the calculor, then rose creakily to his feet to pluck a scroll case from one of the thousand pigeonholes. I recognized the style of the case. It was leather, tooled with official guild patterns, and capped with gold-plated discs at both ends.